I had heard and seen sufficient; there was no more room nor any need for further colloquy with Fajal. I have but a dim impression of my hands being saluted, and of my striding rapidly with downcast head from the beach, leaving my fate behind me in the person of the humble Indian labourer with the horse and cart. In the waning light of the October evening I hastened back to the inn, and threw myself on my bed to digest my latest experience, the ultimate phase of my unique mission. In an hour's time I had shaken off the bewilderment of my encounter by the beach, and was able to converse naturally with Dr Wayne. It was now merely a matter of waiting seven days for the call, and there was nothing to prevent my passing this brief span of time pleasantly and profitably. I hope I have done what lay in my power to conciliate Dr Wayne, with whom I enjoyed some interesting walks in the mild drizzling weather along the summits of the rocky coast. Once or twice the notion arose in me of taking the good man into my complete confidence, but eventually I decided against this course, and confined my efforts to preparing him for the task of publication of my second manuscript and of Mr Cayley's book which I shall leave behind me when I am called to quit this Earth. I have an overwhelming desire to see this purpose fulfilled, and as Fajal has given me express permission to do so, why should not I indulge this innocent whim of mine, however useless and trivial it may be deemed? I think it was Dean Swift who once declared that the man who contrived to make two blades of grass grow where but one had bloomed before bestowed more solid advantage on the human race than all the combined clique of the politicians. So, if I can attract one convert into seeing through my own experienced eyes that what is called progress is not the sole thing needful and desirable for this sorely tried old world of my birth, I shall have accomplished my most modest aim. I shall have sown a seed of arresting reflection amidst the rampant tares of self-sufficiency and materialism which now clog the Herthian soil. * * * * * It is my last night, my last hour on Earth. Midnight has struck some time ago, and already the air is resonant with that strange haunting musical susurration that Fajal's spherule has made familiar to me. My few preparations are all completed, and I have but to descend quietly, loosen the bolt of a certain door, cross the haggard, and follow the path to the headland where the royal vessel awaits the King of Meleager who now bids farewell for ever and for ever to the World and all that therein is. EPIGRAPH By Charles Wayne, M.D.